


This Is Madness

by Penryn3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brothers, Forbidden Love, Guilt, Love, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Next-Gen, Shame, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penryn3/pseuds/Penryn3
Summary: It was wrong. So very wrong.So why did it feel like this?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

I stumbled down the stairs the next morning with my hair mussed and my eyes blurry. I slip and tumble down the last few steps, managing to land upright at the bottom with a loud thump on the wooden floorboards. I look up to see my family staring at me from the dining room table with amused expressions. Or, at least, my parents and Lily are. I don't look at Albus.

I can't look at him. I just can't. I close my eyes as memories from last night assault me.

Albus coming to my room.

Albus sliding into my bed. 

Albus pressing his lean body against mine.

Albus' mouth, hot and greedy.

Albus' voice husky as he breathed:

_'Touch me James'._

I pull out of the memory with a gasp, my stomach rolling and twisting as I resist the urge to vomit.

"James?"

I jerk up my head to find that my family are all staring at me with curious expressions. I force myself to let go of my death grip on the banister.

"Are you okay?" my mother asks, concern etching features that are only just beginning to shown signs of age. 

With some effort, I pull my face into something I hope resembles a smile. 

"I'm fine Mum, just tired." I wonder if she can tell just by looking at me. I feel like it is stamped across my forehead in huge letters, out there for everybody to see.

_Abomination._

Harry looks up.

"You can't be tired already," He teases, quirking an eyebrow. "It's only the second day of summer holidays! Albus has missed you a lot this past year at Hogwarts, and I know he was looking forward to spending time with you." He says pointedly in his 'You better not plan on spending all day in bed' Dad voice.

No Dad, that is just where we spent last night. Together.

My eyes flicker to my brothers. Mistake. Albus is watching me. I can see, even from across the room, how tense his body is; coiled tight.

Acid is burning up my esophagus.

_Don'tbesickdon'tbesickdon'tbesick._

I have to move. Ignoring my family, I make my way over to the breakfast counter, pouring cereal into a bowl just to distract my hands from shaking. My family has gone back to discussing how appropriate it is for Lily to be dating at fifteen. Lily seems to be losing whatever argument she was making. At least I think she is, I'm trying to focus on what they're saying and can't. It's white noise, flickering in and out like static on a television. I wipe sweat from my forehead. How can they not see that I am _freaking the fuck out_? 

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Albus getting up quietly from his chair to walk over to where I am standing. I don't move. Can't move.

"James...," Albus' voice is low and pleading.

I say nothing, turning to walk away when Albus' arm shoots out, calloused fingers curling around my elbow.

"Jamie, we have to talk."

Albus was bold, I'd give him that. But I don't want to talk. I don't want to even acknowledge that there is something to talk about.

"I have _nothing_ to say to you." My voice is ice, splintering my throat. 

Albus' already pale face goes white. He jerks his hand away from my skin as though burned.

I turn, tripping over my own feet once more in my haste to get away. The next thing I know I'm tearing through the backyard. One of the best things about your parents owning acres of property is that it gives you plenty of places to run away to.

I have a tidal wave of emotions swirling throughout my stomach. Butterflies of epic proportions with razor sharp wings. Each one has a name.

Anger. Regret. Resentment. Guilt. Shame. _Desire._

_NO._

Don't think about that.

Without even realizing it, I had run to the big old oak tree that Albus had, a long time ago, dubbed 'Our Thinking Tree'. Long hours were spent here as children, imaginations running wild as we dreamed of the adventures we would have together when we grew into men. This wasn't quite the adventure I had planned. My stomach rolled again and I grimaced.

Why the fuck was I here? I didn't want to think. I wanted to forget. I wanted to go back to the day before yesterday when everything had been simple.

Suddenly I'm screaming. I reef my hand back and slam it into the tree, then again and again, my knuckles bloody and burning as the bark rips my skin away.

"James! Stop!" Albus' shocked voice rings out from where he stands behind me, hand reaching up to grab my shoulder.

I spin and grab him by the throat, slamming him up against that tree. _Our_ tree. Blood drips down from my ragged knuckles to soak into his t-shirt, cherry red against the white material. I'm trying to control my anger, fingers flexing against his bobbing adams apple.

Albus grabs my wrist with both hands, not to push me away but to pull me even closer, taunting me, daring me to push down and hurt him. The feeling in my chest is painful, hard gasps punching in and out. His own breathing is shallow, almost panting when he speaks.

"What now, James?" he hisses, green eyes narrow and defiant.

"Are you going to hit me Brother?" he asks mockingly. "Because you can deny it all you like, but you wanted what I did to you! You can hit me till l'm dead but it won't change how you moaned and shuddered under my touch, the way those little gasps kept getting caught behind your teeth as you shoved your cock down my throat, begging me, _'Don't stop Al, please don't stop'_ -"

Enraged, I pull Albus away from the tree and slam him back into it again, bark shredding away from its trunk to rain down over us.

When did my seventeen year old brother get such a dirty mouth? What's worse is that I _like_ it. My body betraying just _how much_ I like those filthy words pouring out of my brothers full lipped dainty mouth.

"You came," Albus pants, "You came with my name on your lips. I can still _taste_ you. Tell me you didn't like it. Go on, lie to me".

The words hurt. I don't want to hear this. Albus just stares at me, his furious gaze calling me a coward.

Suddenly, without even meaning to, I'm falling forward to crush my mouth to his. It's not gentle but bruising as I pin him to the tree and plunge my tongue past his lips.

Albus responds with just as much anger, hands in my hair and curling around my neck, gripping and pulling.

It's like a dam bursting. I have so much pent up anger. Pent up _want_. Feelings that I have been denying for years are pouring out. Because this can't happen but it is. I need more. Pulling up his shirt I rake my fingers over all that burning hot skin. Mapping him. Memorizing him. 

I have to stop. My family, _our family_ , could walk out at any moment and see.

_Havetostophavetostophavetostop._

Lips. Tongues. Teeth.

God, am I drowning? It feels like l'm drowning. If I am, Albus is oxygen. It's wrong, so very wrong. Then why does it feel like _this_?

Albus has his hands in my back pockets, squeezing my ass and grinding us together. He's hard against my thigh and a ragged moan is forcing it's way past my lips. 

_Can'tstopcan'tstopcan'tstop._

Albus pulls back, lips kiss swollen and breathing hard.

"Don't say no." Is all he says.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. I have to say no, I'm the oldest. I'm supposed to be the responsible one. It's my job to put an end to this before it gets out of hand.

As if it hasn't already.

Except I can't, and what's more is that I don't want to. I will never have enough of this. Last night was a dam breaking and I don't know how to rebuild it. How can I give up this terribly wonderful thing?

I stroke my fingertips down his flushed face, gasping when he turns to press warm wet lips to my palm.

Tomorrow, I will tell him. Tell him this is madness and can't go on. This is the lie I tell myself as I guide my brothers mouth back to mine.

_Tomorrow._

That was three years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated :)


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